“Lord!” cried the Waggoner with a sudden,
great laugh, “you don’t owe me nothin’
for that,—­not nohow,—­I owe you
one for a knocking of me into that ditch, back yonder,
though, to be sure, I did give ye one or two good
’uns, didn’t I?”

“You certainly did!” answered Bellew smiling,
and he held out his hand.

“Hey!—­what be this?” cried
the Waggoner, staring down at the bright five-shilling
piece in his palm.

“Well, I rather think it’s five shillings,”
said Bellew. “It’s big enough, heaven
knows. English money is all O.K., I suppose, but
it’s confoundedly confusing, and rather heavy
to drag around if you happen to have enough of it—­”

“Ah!” nodded the Waggoner, “but
then nobody never has enough of it,—­leastways,
I never knowed nobody as had. Good-bye, sir! and
thankee, and—­good luck!” saying which,
the Waggoner chirrupped to his horses, slipped the
coin into his pocket, nodded, and the waggon creaked
and rumbled up the lane.

Bellew strolled along the road, breathing an air fragrant
with honey-suckle from the hedges, and full of the
song of birds; pausing, now and then, to listen to
the blythe carol of a sky-lark, or the rich; sweet
notes of a black-bird, and feeling that it was indeed,
good to be alive; so that, what with all this,—­the
springy turf beneath his feet, and the blue expanse
over-head, he began to whistle for very joy of it,
until, remembering the Haunting Shadow of the Might
Have Been, he checked himself, and sighed instead.
Presently, turning from the road, he climbed a stile,
and followed a narrow path that led away across the
meadows, and, as he went, there met him a gentle wind
laden with the sweet, warm scent of ripening hops,
and fruit.

On he went, and on,—­heedless of his direction
until the sun grew low, and he grew hungry; wherefore,
looking about, he presently espied a nook sheltered
from the sun’s level rays by a steep bank where
flowers bloomed, and ferns grew. Here he sat
down, unslinging his knap-sack, and here it was, also,
that he first encountered Small Porges.

CHAPTER IV

How Small Porges in looking for a fortune for another,
found an Uncle for Himself instead

The meeting of George Bellew and Small Porges, (as
he afterward came to be called), was sudden, precipitate,
and wholly unexpected; and it befell on this wise: